


The Heart of Everything

by slash4femme



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Future Character Death, Kissing, M/M, Writing on the Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: Shunsui writes in the days when it becomes hard to remember the good things





	The Heart of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, sorry guys. written for springkink prompt: Bleach, Ukitake/Shunsui; Writing (love letters or notes; secret admirers; e-mail and chat; wills; poetry; storytelling; tracing words or figures on skin, or writing, as with an inkbrush) – tucked away in my heart.

I.  
Shunsui is by nature an upbeat person. Not that he can’t take things very seriously, but he’s always believed that there are far too many beautiful and good things in the world to spend one’s whole life dwelling only on misfortune. Normally he’s good at seeing the beauty in things, the hope in every situation.

Some days though, some days Shunsui’s mind seems inexplicably drawn into the dark. It’s on these days that when he kisses Juushirou on the forehead before leaving for his own office he wonders if he’ll ever see that beautiful smile again. It’s been so long, so many centuries living with the knowledge that Juushirou, the one person he loves more then anything, could be taken away at any moment. Shunsui has never stopped being afraid of that, dreading that moment with everything in him and he’s learned to live with that fear, tucked away in the back of his mind. He’s learned to see through it to the beauty of every moment that Juushirou _is_ there, to the innate goodness of life. He’s learned to work around the dread so that he and Juushirou can both live their lives as fully as they can.  
  
Some days though it’s hard.  
  
Those are the days when he wants to hold Juushirou as close as possible desperately afraid that if he lets go for even one second he’ll never get another chance. Ukitake Juushirou is the strongest man Shunsui’s ever known; he is a nearly unstoppable force, both beautiful and terrifyingly fierce. Shunsui will never think of him as weak or fragile yet his illness hangs there, an undeniable fact eating away at Juushirou from the inside out.

Shunsui doesn’t know what his life will be when he looses Juushirou.  
  
On the days when it gets to be too much, Shunsui writes. He writes about the good and beautiful things. About the way the moon looks bright and full reflected against freshly fallen snow, about Kamata-nishiki luxurious and heavy in full bloom. He writes about the ways the trees grow and bend, strong and beautiful outside his office window. About the way Juushirou’s hair looks fanned out against the much darker skin of Shunsui’s thighs. He doesn’t show these poems, these pieces of himself, to anyone. He doesn’t have to, they aren’t for anyone but himself, to remind him that the darker days end. That Juushirou will be there the next day to smile at him when Shunsui kisses his forehead even if it is one of those days when Juushirou’s illness keeps him in bed. Shunsui writes them and then puts them away in a box in a chest in his bedroom along with a couple old haori’s he hasn’t worn in a few centuries at least. As the years go on he writes about the joy of the first summer rain, and the slow dark ache of holding Juushirou in his arms as the other man shivers uncontrollably with fever. He buys another box.  
  
Then comes the day when he thinks he watches Juushirou die or come closer to it then he ever as before. Shunsui expects something to snap in that moment but it isn’t like that, it isn’t nearly that violent. Instead it’s like something closes in side him, something crumples in on itself withering and dying. He isn’t conscious of anything outside of himself, isn’t conscious of anything within except for the finality of the decay of everything that he loves.  
  
Juushirou survives, like he always does. They both do.  
  
The first night they share a bed afterwards Shunsui doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to get close enough, how to hold Juushirou tight enough to revive the part of him that had died the moment he thought Juushirou had finally been taken from him. He feels like he can’t breathe except when Juushirou is touching him. He doesn’t really know anything except the way Juushirou presses against him, the feeling of his fingers against the back of Shunsui’s neck cradling his head. He thinks he himself might cease to exist if Juushirou were to stop looking at him, stop moving against him, were ever to just _stop_.  
  
After all these years Shunsui is hardly ever desperate, he is tonight though a clingy, desperate, needy thing. Juushirou is calm, and gentle when he touches Shunsui, when their lips meet and when he cups the back of Shunsui’s head runs his tongue along the softy places of Shunsui’s mouth. There is strength and fire too, a hard unyielding fierceness that makes Shunsui tremble and bend and quake as Juushirou traps him between slim arms and licks down his throat.  
  
When Juushirou finally sleeps, deeply and unafraid, hand gently curled by his ear, Shunsui slips out of bed. The pain that consumes his heart hasn’t lessened any. This plain and the joy that comes from it has always been something he keeps to himself, close to his heart. He can feel things changing now; changing inside of him, and it is too much tonight, too much to keep inside anymore.  
  
There is ink and a brush on the table in Juushirou’s study, with crisp clean paper neatly stacked nearby. Shunsui runs one finger cross it for a moment, and sighs letting his head fall a little bit forward hair loose around his face, he picks up the ink stone.  
  
II.  
Juushirou dreams of cranes and butterflies, of deep cold water that sweeps him up and holds him safe. He dreams he can see himself sleeping, wrapped in Shunsui’s pink haori. He wakes naked and still lying among the tangled sheets on his bed. He can sense the warm solid presence of Shunsui behind him, and feels something cool and soft trace along the skin where his neck becomes back.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
He tries to move but Shunsui puts a hand on his shoulder to hold him still, “shush Juushirou. I’m writing, if you move you’ll smudge it.”  
  
“Writing what?” Juushirou tries to twist his torso, crane his neck to see, but the angle is wrong and Shunsui just smiles. Juushirou finally gives up and lies quietly while Shunsui finishes and sets the brush aside, bending to blow across the drying ink on Juushirou’s skin making him shiver.  
  
When Shunsui straightens back up Juushirou turns to put his hand on the back of Shunsui's neck and pulls him down. He kisses the corners of Shunsui’s mouth, licks across the stubble along his jaw. Shunsui’s tongue rubs and teases against his when they finally kiss mouth against mouth. Juushirou twists his fingers in Shunsui's dark curls and moans openly and without shame. His hands slide to Shunsui’s shoulders, and holds on tightly as he grinds up against him. Shunsui’s body is strong and solid against his. The dark hair that covers most of his body always makes Juushirou feel over-sensitized and raw with need. He runs one hand along Shunsui’s back, presses him down against Juushirou, and kisses the side of his jaw just below his ear. Shunsui is breathing heavily, little gasps against Juushirou’s hair, hands curling around his biceps. Juushirou bends one leg curling it up slightly, rubs himself unrepentantly against Shunsui’s thigh.

It’s unusually for them to do this twice in one night these days but Juushirou needs this, needs Shunsui close tonight, needs to feel Shunsui’s emotion and life. Shunsui kisses down his neck, licks at the curve where neck meets shoulder. Juushirou makes a small noise between a groan and a sigh as Shunsui nuzzles and kisses against the soft pale skin. Juushirou wouldn’t mind if Shunsui was a little rougher, used teeth maybe, but he knows it is not in Shunsui’s nature to be anything but sweetly attentive towards his lover. Juushirou never felt less then fulfilled by what they do together anyway.  
  
He skims one hand along Shunsui’s back feeling muscles pull and move while he cups the other man’s neck with his other hand, tilting Shunsui’s head so he can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet and Juushirou teases at Shunsui’s button lip with his tongue until Shunsui moans and grinds down hard against Juushirou’s hip. Shunsui’s hand comes around to cup Juushirou’s chin, thumb moving across the other man’s high cheekbone. He rubs the side of his face against Juushirou’s, touches their noses together, and kisses him on the lips.  
  
Juushirou shivers all over, arches up into Shunsui’s touch. The hand that runs down Shunsui's back, grips his ass, the fingers stroking into his cleft are slow and hesitant, asking permission. Shunsui nods against the curve of Juushirou’s throat. Juushirou tries to keep his hand as gentle as possible as he tease at Shunsui’s opening, caressing and stretching. He doesn’t need to draw out the preparation really, Shunsui is still open and a little slick from a few hours ago, shifting and rubbing almost impatiently against Juushirou’s hips. Shunsui likes it slow though, they both do, so Juushirou takes his time. He holds him close with one arm, lays kisses and soft words along his throat and into his hair his other hand touching, probing there. Shunsui sighs, rocks his hips back, closes his eyes.  
  
“Sit back.” Juushirou says finally hands moving to curve around Shunsui’s hips, “ think this is going to work.”  
  
Shunsui smiles at that, pushes his hair out of his face, sitting up so that he’s straddling Juushirou. “Like we’ve never done this before.” Shunsui grins and bends to kiss the smooth flat planes of Juushirou’s stomach. “Love you.”  
  
Juushirou smiles and touches Shunsui’s face, “I’m sorry I scared you.” Although he’s not sure which times he’s referring to. Shunsui shakes his head a little, reaches around behind and there is a moment fragile in perfection where they are both very still. Then Juushirou sucks in his breath hard, and clutches tight to Shunsui’s hips as he sinks down.  
  
“ _Shunsui._ ” Juushirou suddenly feels very overwhelmed and he knows he’s not going to last. Shunsui rubs his hand across the back of one of Juushirou’s, where it is gripping Shunsui’s hip like a vice and Juushirou knows it the other man’s way of telling him it’s all right. Shunsui moves then and Juushirou can’t help but gasp and moan and push up to meet him. “So beautiful.” He manages to force out between gasps and Shunsui’s eyes drop as he looks away.  
  
Shunsui is though, has always been to Juushirou, full of life and gentleness and joy. Juushirou hates to see Shunsui hurt or afraid more then just about anything else in the world. He much prefers to see Shunsui the way he is now, damp hair falling into his face; eyes dark gray and clouded over with pleasure and want. Juushirou is memorized by the way the muscles in Shunsui thighs, and stomach move, the flex of his shoulders and arms. He rakes his nails up Shunsui's chest leaving light marks that fade quickly, watching sweat bead on the hairs there. Juushirou wants to pull him down again and kiss him but the pleasure building inside him is too hot, too much for him to ignore. Too much for him to do anything except thrust up and writhe, and he feels white hot pleasure snap down his spine and through him and he cries out hands clutching at Shunsui’s arms as he comes. Shunsui cries out too, shaking above him, and Juushirou watches almost spellbound as the other man comes. It’s beautiful and perfect, messy and brilliant. It always is.  
  
Shunsui collapses down on top of him and they both roll to the side and Shunsui strokes Juushirou arm, strokes back his hair, murmurs nonsense until Juushirou feels himself drift off the sleep again. This time he sleeps all the way through the night.  
  
He wakes next with sun on his face and Shunsui snoring lightly next to him. He feels a little stiff, a little sore but nothing that a hot shower won’t take care of. He stretches and grabs a robe and heads for the bathroom. When he gets there he drops the robe off his shoulders and turns so he can see what Shunsui has written on his back. The ink is badly smudged and the reflection of it is backwards but Juushirou can still make enough out to read. He stands there for a long time just looking, reading it over and over again although he’d already committed it to memory by the time he was done reading through it the first time. This he will never forget.  
  
The hot water washes it away when he steps into the shower and Juushirou tilts his face up feels it fall against his cheeks like tears. He goes back to the bedroom, hair wet and hanging against his face robe held tightly around him. He drops the robe on the floor and curls up against Shunsui again pressing into his broad back putting both arms around his waist. He holds Shunsui tightly, flush against his chest. For a fanciful moment thinks that maybe Shunsui will be able to feel Juushirou’s heartbeat when he wakes, and he hopes that’s true.


End file.
